If someone was offering “sex to change the course of the world” would you swipe left? Or would you take the chance and meet them?
If you’re anything like Jo, you’ll take the chance. If you’re lucky, you’ll get crazy-exciting sex. If you’re Jo, however, you’ll find yourself meeting Jules, a marine biologist living in a basement full of supplies for the end of the world – and for re-starting the human race after the big boom.
Boom explores evolution, the nature of scientific evidence, language and what to consider if it’s up to you to continue your species. If that sounds heavy, it’s not – this is a fast-talking post-apocalypse farce.
The pace is relentless, and could have done with a little more variation, and it’s true that the framing device – involving a passionate and well-informed lady called Barbara and her assorted props – can at times feel lumpen and laboured. Also, some of the jokes sit in uncomfortable territory in terms of sexual politics and assault – at times it feels like a play from an entirely different era.
At other times, though, it feels very much like a play for these alternative fact-addled times. Jules explains that other scientists think his mass extinction theory based on fish behaviour isn’t credible – so why should we, or Jo, believe him? How do we assess evidence? How do we decide to place our trust in experts, when there are so many, with such divergent views? When Jo asks why a marine biologist and not an astronomer has spotted the massive meteor heading towards Earth, and the answer is a conspiracy theory, do we nod sagely and think, yes, that sounds about right? Or should we write him off as a paranoid creep? There’s also a nice, sweary, running joke about the evolution of language.
Boom doesn’t offer any real answers. However, it does deliver some reasonable laughs and a few nicely thought-provoking moments. Played with great commitment and vigour by Nicole Sawyerr, Will Merrick and Mandi Symonds and directed with vim by Katherine Nesbitt, Boom doesn’t pack the theatrical or scientific punch of, say, Mosquitoes or Photograph 51, but if you’re a little sci-curious it’ll give you at least enough for a satisfying discussion in the pub.
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At Theatre 503, London, until 26 August. Box office: 020 7978 7040
